Let's Go Home
by kemor
Summary: Survey Corps retrieve Erwin's skeleton in 851.


The first rays of sun start to peek through the crowns of the trees, telling him that it is time to pick up the pace. He turns around and gives the signal to the 8 behind him, letting them know that their march has come to an end.

He throws his right leg over his horse and gently kicks its sides, letting it know to go faster. The forest is getting brighter with each minute.

He passes the river, which is commented by a male voice behind him, followed by the approval of two others – female, and another male. He can hear the nostalgia in their quiet whispers, and it slightly eases the pressure on his chest. Let them have their moment – they haven't been here in a year.

He dodges under a branch and leans forward against his horse, gently pressing his figure onto it. He can hear the leaves and branches cutting through the air above his head, accompanied by the sounds of twigs breaking under the hooves, and whispers of his companions.

Unlike before, they are not nervous, or afraid. They sound relaxed, cheerful even. Well, he can't blame them. After all, this was their first ride beyond home, where they didn't have to worry about being killed any minute.

He can spot the exit, along with the brick road. The sight creates a ball in his throat, one he is unable to swallow. He still remembered riding down this road, empty handed, chased from the very gate itself. Despite acquiring what the others called a victory, their fight did not end there. The only moment they could take a real breath was after being pulled up in Trost. And even then, it was short-lived.

They entered the road and emerged from the forest, the early sun blinding them, as if welcoming them. Well, spending the whole night in the dark without any real lighting does that to a person. He squints his eyes even harder than usual, and bows his head down a little.

He passes down the destroyed buildings, some of them more familiar than he'd want to. He keeps his eye on the road, he wants to see only the road, but his mind does not let him ignore the arms, legs, and skeletons hanging from rooftops, windows, destroyed walls.

He passes them one by one, and although they have now gained the color of rotten milk, completely rid of their original features, he can somehow still remember who he's passing by right now.

And it sure as hell ain't helping.

The corner of his eye makes him spot a building much more similar than the others, and this time he looks the other way, a sound of plain irritation, one he hasn't let out in a long time escaping his mouth. Although it took him only a quick glance, he could picture himself standing there, watching how this came to be, how it happened.

As if being reminded of it every damn night wasn't enough.

He looks back onto the round, and his chest immediately tightens, but this time, he does not look away. He locks his hardened gaze onto his destination, on what he came here for. His grip on the lace tightens, and he smacks it, letting his horse know it needs to speed up.

The others do not speed up, letting him take the lead. For some reason, he's grateful for that. He wasn't sure whether it was her order, or their own will, but he didn't care. After all of this would be over with, they would once again hear his gratitude. Let them have it, it's not a big deal.

He pulls on the lace and stops. He's still quite a distance away from his goal, but he doesn't care. He gets off his horse and leads it to the nearby railing, tying it to it. He gives his compaion a small pat on the base of his neck and raaches out to the sack tied to its side, before pulling out his bag. Of course it got dirty. With a small sigh, he pats the dust and dirt off of it and starts to walk towards the house, putting the bag over his shoulder in the meantime.

He takes the very same road he took back then, and with each step, he can feel the feeling in his chest becoming tighter. Every single details of this path was exactly as it was a year ago, left completely intact. Even the debris was just lying there in the same pattern. You'd think some of these broken walls would have collapsed under their weight by now.

It's almost as if the world wanted this moment to happen the way he didn't want it to.

He walks up to the door and puts his hand on it. The lock is still broken the same way it was when he kicked it down. He inhales deeply through his nose and pushes it, before entering the house.

The interior is gently lighted by the sun, most of the main room staying in the dark. The curtains are gently flowing in the wind, tickling the old, leather chair that, along with the table in front of it, were the only things bathing in the sun.

Huh. Now that he looks at it, the chair is not that bad. It does have some tears and cuts in it, but that's not something that can't be picked. Perhaps taking it back home on another visit wouldn't be that stupid of an idea.

He takes his eyes off the room and starts to walk up the stairs. He deliberately avoids touching the railing, and each step he takes is heavier than the previous one.

The sensation of dread is starting to kick in. He's not one to be paranoid, or afraid of what could or might have happened, but this one time, he allows it to live.

After reaching the step at the very middle of the stairs, he looks to his left. The broken, unevenly hanged picture is still here, and once again, it annoys him. He stops and gently adjusts it, but it goes back to its previous position almost immediately, irritating him. He scoffs, but feels thankful to the old thing. It took his mind off his trouble, even if briefly.

He resumes his way. He can see the door.

Final step.

He is now in the second floor, and it's getting harder to breathe.

He reaches out to the door. It's still locked. He gently pushes it and it opens with a loud squeak. He takes one more deep breath and enters the room.

It's still the same way as he remembered it. The old cabinet in the right corner was still there, the open closet, with ragged clothes hanging in it, now even more grey than they used to be. And then, there was the bed, the only part of the room bathing in the sun.

And on this bed, was him.

He steps into the room and gently walks up to the bed, the tightness in his chest fading away at the sight. Nothing was wrong, nobody, or rather nothing got in here. Not that anyone would, but still.

He is now by the bedside, and he stares its inhabitant down. He takes a chair and pulls it closer to the bed, before sitting in it. His eyes wander on him from top to bottom, examining him. Noting down, that nothing was wrong, he smirks gently under his nose and reaches out, before putting his hand on his naked skull.

"I'm back, Erwin." says Levi, and gently caresses his friend.

He spots, that during the past year, his uniform has gotten more grey, its previous strong, green color now paling in comparison to his current attire. Not that he could blame him, it was dusty as hell in here.

His eyes lay on his right arm, the sight reminding him of an old feeling of failure, a stain on his pride. After all this time, he still blamed himself for not being there, even though there was nothing he could do about it.

Levi's eyes search over his skeleton, as if looking for answers. But, answers to what? There were no questions wandering in his mind – everything he'd wanted to know was already there.

Actually, no. There was one thing he still wasn't sure of himself.

He still hasn't decided, whether he's come here to mourn, or pay his respects. And the more he stared at his body, the more he was sure of the answer.

It was both.

He smiles under his nose and opens his bag, before pulling out a clean blanket. He lays it down on the floor and straightens himself up, before putting his hands under his back and knees.

"Sorry it took me so long." he apologizes, and picks him up, before putting him down at the center of the cloth. He kneels and gently tugs the corners in, covering him more and more. He then puts his arms in their previous spots one more time and picks him up again, before walking out of the room.

He makes his way down, and suddenly, all of the things that annoyed him about this house were now gone. The picture wasn't as irritating, the squeaky door did not make his ear bleed. Almost as if he was freed from this place. He no longer had to come back here.

And that made him feel better.

He walks out of the house, and gets blinded by the sun. He must have spent a while in there, because now, there was no sign of the previously dark blue sky.

His eyes adjust, and he can see the eight of them, standing in two rows of four on each side of the road, and as he walks along with it, with Erwin in his arms, they all straighten their backs and smack their chests with their fists, performing a salute in respect and memory of their fallen Commander, something they couldn't have done a year ago.

And they walked down the road towards peace together, he looks down and can't stop the smile on his face. The smile of freedom, from both guilt of leaving him here, as well as letting him die in this cursed place.

"Let's go home." says Levi, and soon the others follow behind him, marching in silence.

They have retrieved what they've left here a year ago. They have beaten the sense of guilt and shame they've felt ever since leaving this place all this time ago.

But, most importantly…

The hole in his heart has finally been healed.

* * *

 _Dedicated to Julia. I love you  
_

* * *

 **Of Inner Demons coming up this Monday.**


End file.
